


Blood Ecstasy

by jronekis2 (minhyunbin)



Category: NU'EST
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Fantasy, Flogging, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Minor Violence, Rough Sex, Smut, bottom!Dongho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:34:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28571592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minhyunbin/pseuds/jronekis2
Summary: Every individual's blood have their exquisite scent, and everyone have their exclusive tastes. For Dongho, his blood is scented in rich cedar wood, calming yet alluring. For the vampire emperor Minhyun, his royal blood harbored a tingling citrus that of a grapefruit, as with the beautiful scent of lavender. For them both, nothing taste better than the other.
Relationships: Hwang Minhyun/Kang Dongho | Baekho
Comments: 9
Kudos: 24





	Blood Ecstasy

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Baekmin, Blood
> 
> Trigger Warning: blood play, blood, mentions of violence, bdsm/bondage, flogging

There was little reason for a mask besides the need for dramatics and respect for traditions, when everyone at the masquerade had known each other for what seemed like centuries. This rang true for some more so than others; women in their black velvet and gold painted masks engaged in small, polite talk, leaning forward ever so lightly to chime in a frivolous giggle, often accompanied the light fanning of their fan. Men, decked in their best suits and wear of varying eras, each decorated to their own fancy in this moment of celebration. Any party or gathering was a celebration - the celebration of a newborn feral, the celebration of a new moon, the celebration of the appearance of the Emperor. Even the celebration of eternal life, as boring as that was.

Glasses raised, wine red liquid swishing around like ocean waves caught in a storm, but they clung onto the sides with a lot more ferocity. ( There's a saying that blood is thicker than water, and they were right. ) More had been spilled throughout the night of sheer decadence, left to the 'cleaners' after the crowd had scattered, disappearing to their resting place till the next invitation was issued. Men, women, those that walk the borders in between; human figures roam the room in a trance, each an assigned escort to their guest of the night. Most of them are willing volunteers, a few others, experimenters, but all have the same similarity that courses through their veins: fresh and heart full of vigor pumping them, giving rise to the flush under their skin.

A scream that soon turned into a moan, and barely anyone bat an eye. Unless someone made a mess on a rare occasion - which had happened. There was a time when a bored regent spiked the drink fountain with a drip of royal blood, and like spirit, doused a poor commissioner in the fiery, drunken passion. And oh, it was a mess, trails of blood left on the floor and onto the pristine white dress of a Lady of Honor. But now that story had been passed on generations to generations, a fun party-tale by the oldies to new, bright-eyed hopefuls with a dash of exaggeration. 

All vampires have a lust for theatrics, it seemed.

"...hnn?"

Heads turned, all gaze on one. The young man stilled, wavering eyes sweeping through the entire gala room, seemingly surprised by the sudden volume of attention. [Light purple hair gently styled into a wave](https://scontent.fsin9-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/95237698_2826403994139192_7348388924026257408_o.jpg?_nc_cat=102&ccb=2&_nc_sid=8bfeb9&_nc_ohc=nNJAgdn4kywAX_alsKd&_nc_ht=scontent.fsin9-1.fna&oh=920799f738224bc6b42baf1a7e6fc7f0&oe=60173C74), sleek black slacks complemented with a cream yellow shirt, several buttons undone to show his sculpted muscles and the peek of bold tattoos, shirt tucked in to show his synched waist. But as captivating his physique and handsome features were, it was the slightest fragrance of something woody that was so oddly tempting. The flavor so rich that one could almost taste it in the air, just hidden beneath the taut flesh exposed for all to see. 

"I see we have a new child here," someone said, low voice seeping with a lecherous tone as he stepped through the crowd. The cup in his hand held loosely, spilling drapes every now and then in his sashay. They're one of the older members, not nearly as old as elders, but enough to show even on their face the signs of aging from inhaling toxic fumes in the blood of poor whores, regardless of genders, age and origins. Low quality blood, filled with rotten iron, sickness and plague across decades, waned the dusty skin so much so that even their otherwise perfect skin showed signs of wrinkles and disgusting flake. In their own way, the stares dispersed, turning into curious, leering glances as they continue to engage in idle chatter, no one really continuing their speech as much as they were in for the unfolding entertainment. Discreet, yet curious.

"Who are you assigned to?" he asked, stepping closer. There was a splash, his cup tilting over completely, but he didn't mind. Because he was one of the oldest, if not the oldest in the room, truly a man who lived through some of the most debaucherious eras. And in the hindsight of hierarchical rules, who else was there to stop him? Not anyone from the royal courts, who chose never to be present in these parties - a killjoy, really - and certainly not the currently emptied throne of thorns and roses, even if he was the one who had to present the gala as a customary tradition to please the high society. 

Besides, why would he bother so much with a lowly escort, one without even a mask on his face? Though he thanked the night butlers. Such beautiful features would be wasted hidden behind needless cloth. His own company was less than stellar, though by now he supposed he's already made a name for himself with the lack of care on quality as much as quantity. Doesn't mean he couldn't opt for something a little better, something more fitting to his actual name. He raised his hand to grab at him, looking every bit like a man in drunken stupor stumbling than a dignified lord at an esteemed party. 

"I would advise against this." Donho said, a swift side-step to avoid the groping hands, bushy brows knitted together in discomfort, evident frown appearing. 

A move that pricked at his pride, especially under the careful eyes of everyone else, engulfing him in an entitled fury. 

"You, avoiding me?!" He moved in, fast. Claw-like hands sweeping in in a gripping motion, like a hungry vulcan going at a prey, a speed that few would be able to avoid. Dongho widened his eyes, a step backwards taken in the spur of surprise, but as he shut his eyes out of the remaining human instinct within him, hands balled into a fist at the sides, the cry of pain was unexpectedly from the assaulter himself.

There was a loud shout, the sound of a man yelling from the sheering burns from electricity, a jolt that ran through his entire, shrunken body, flinging it several feet away in an arch. Murmurs washed upon the room. For all entertainment they were anticipating, this certainly far exceeded expectations. In the corner, a few girls giggled, voice muffled with fans and raised hands; to the side, a few men looked on, gaze sweeping from the crying lord on the floor to the surprised purple-haired male. No one bothered to come up front, for it was something many had dreamed to see even if everyone was tight-lipped about the old man's countless antics.

And all had but one question on their minds, for various intentions behind it.

_Who is he?_

**"What's the commotion?"**

Silence, like blade slicing through the air in a sweeping motion, befall on the audience. Soft words commanded attention in it's underlying authority, gentle like petals in its false illusion of nonchalance. Coming down the central stairs was a pale, tall male, reddish brown hair a shade darker in the dim room illuminated just by the light of a waxing moon. No one said a word, bodies lowered in a curtseys or formal bows, eyes downcast at the floor, a customary practice. He hummed, a sound of displeasure as he took his time to descend the steps, surveying the crowd only to land on one person in particular. It was only when he took his seat, one leg elegantly crossed over the other amid the thorns from roses thawed around the stone, that he decided to acknowledge their presence. He waved his hand casually, and like the command of a wave, the crowd rose to their fullest. The disgruntled lord was finally helped to his feet, subtly trying to dry his stained shirt.

"I see you've been enjoying _yourselves_ ," he continued, but sharp eyes cut through the audience, directly at the mysterious purple-hair, then to the lord. The emphasis on the last word was teetering in danger, freezing any movements on the spot out of induced intimidation. Minhyun leaned back, finger tapping so very lightly and quietly on the cool, dark stone surface. Under the light, his suit seemed to shine whenever he moved, [elaborately handsewn design](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DSSP0GiXUAEXJij.jpg) dictating the man's distinctive, classy taste. Luxury with hints of subtlety, but not without a personal flair. His pale skin seemed to glow with a hint of rosy tint on the cheeks and lips, a thing so questionably impossible of their kind with ashy tones. He looked almost human, but too beautiful to pass off as one; no one man can walk the Earth with such sheer beauty, the air of elegance acquired by blood lineage that survived through the millennia. 

And under that human hide, was a living monster. 

"Dongho."

The melodious voice calling the name had roused the wrath of several people. The purple-haired male could feel it in every step he took upon being beckoned the way the bloodshot eyes burned into him even as they parted ways for him to walk. It should not come as a surprise how Minhyun was the one person sought after by many. Most for his position that he was borne into, and held much talent for; others was for more superficial reasons, such as his eternal beauty, one that puts even the brightest blooms into shame. And what they call craved, was to some day, simply have their names be called upon with such tenderness. They locked gaze, and Minhyun pulled out a smile, the light touch of the upward curl made him swallow.

He rapped his fingers on his knee, and Dongho sat without a second thought. To be the man of someone chosen by fates to lead, Dongho had at least some confidence to present himself, even in the presence of many others. After all, he was one of them, albeit slightly different. Minhyun pulled him closer, a move that wounded with Dongho's arms around his neck for balance. In the close proximity, the emperor could almost taste it - the rich aroma of cedar wood that promised a night of ecstasy. 

( And a scent that none other than him was entitled to. )

Minhyun would get to that later. For now, he's curious. Curious as to why his senses are tingling, a little whisperer telling him that someone had very boldly, attempted to touch the one precious being belonging to him. He's curious who had truly lived long enough to seek their own destruction. Eyes locked onto the only person he's had interest in conversation.

"Lord Sangwon, care to enlighten me?"

Of course, done on his own terms.

Free hand lifted, fingers unfurling as if in a loose handshake through the air, he looked towards the old man. 

"I-"

And just like that, the lord's eyes started to widen in panic, an exquisite expression that's a pure novelty among the society. Hands grasping at the invisible ring of air around his neck as he tipped on his toes, the others watched in mild horror and sick fascination of the man struggling to break free of the gripping pain. Slowly, Minhyun curled his fingers, tightening the grip in a way that made the man heave from suffocation. Another odd reaction, really, because when do vampires need to breathe? The royal highness always found it pretty particular that they always seemed to gasp for air when he does this, crushing the bones around what would be the airway of the human anatomy. He's sure the male would be alright. A man of that age would have learned the art of regeneration, what's not to say they only truly die when a stake was driven through their heart to hold them in place till sunrise.

This was merely a small punishment.

"Hmm, what is that?" Minhyun asked, fox-like eyes narrowing with an air of viciousness. 

"... _Minhyun_ ," Dongho whispered, just loud enough for his lover to hear, hands gripping into a fist as he grabbed at the ruffled collar, trying not to move in this unstable position. It's uncomfortable, to say the least, but he's been through enough uncomfortable positions elsewhere. It was scandalous enough for the likes of a new bloodsucker like him to sit upon the knee of the highest hierarchy in a public affair. The roses pressed against him, and he could feel the light prickle of its thorn against his skin. It was certainly a throne befitting of the royal highness, with stone polished till it shined, and bed of roses that seemingly grew around it. It was cold and intimidating as it was alluring, signalling a deadly poison in the personification of its worthy owner, the emperor. Minhyun's eyes softened, partly out of adoration, and another part for show. Because ain't masquerades all about putting on a facade? Though, he would like to think of his action as a strong statement to have. 

"I would advise you to keep your hands off things that doesn't belong to you," he drawled, loosening his fingers as Lord Sangwon fell to his knees, pain distorting his features even more, reducing the poor man into a grotesque, trembling rat. "It's a bad habit to have, don't you think? We gave you basic respect, but we do not condone such _entitlement_."

"I-I'm sorry, your royal highness! I, I apologize!"

Minhyun stopped him with one raised hand. He needed no boring, empty words from a begging rat, even it did give him a very cheap thrill. Because it is a testament to see how hierarchy works in their world. It far succeed sheer age of survival, looking at lineages and accumulated achievements of a family clan.

In short, age was but one mere factor, for power, is power.

"Seems like I've ruined the fun," Minhyun lamented with an air of dramatic sigh, rising from his seat. And with it, his arms wrapped themselves under Dongho's waist and knees, hoisting him up without much of a challenge. Dongho coughed to cover up his embarrassment as Minhyun spun on his heels, making his ascend back up the stairs. He's promised his councilors one single appearance for the night, and he's fulfilled it. Now, he would rather spend time where it truly mattered. On the person that made it all worth it. Everyone else he could meet time and time again, because for creatures of the night like them, they have a lifetime to connect, if they choose to. 

"Everyone, please enjoy the free flow of the best drinks as my apology," he tossed as a final statement, before disappearing through the drawn curtains.

* * *

"Of all people, it had to be the worse one."

Delve fingers tugged the ribbon loose, his suit jacket folded and thrown onto the back of a leather chair, [undoing the top button](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EgQBv01UMAASkho.jpg). He watched as the figure kneeling on the bed let out a muffled whine, naked body glistened with a layer of sweat being bound into position. Under the glass of the open-air ceilings, Dongho looked like an exhibiting sculpture in an obscure museum. Slightly tanned and smooth skin gave a beautiful canvas for his tattoos to pop, from his chest to arms all the way to those muscular calves. His muscles were pulled taut to show every dip and rise of his curves - the slender waist but endowed hips, butt reddened with streaks from the flogging moments earlier. It's a shame that he couldn't keep it there for long, for soon it would fade, like all wounds and irritants would on undead skin. Even if Dongho wasn't technically built the same way, he too harbor the same trait. 

It's alright, he could just do it again, and again, **and again**.

If he had all the time in the world, if he could somehow capture moonlight and leave it glowing in the night sky, becoming the only source of light to gaze upon skin, he would have loved to admire him in this state forever. He's heard all sorts of compliments about his own visuals, growing up with the full confidence few, if not none, would be able to stand on the same groups as him. But Dongho? Dongho was art on its own, sculpted by the God of Art himself. What was his name again, the one that mortals bestowed?

Apollo. He would be sculpted by Apollo himself, if he ever existed.

He doesn't.

Mythology often was a whole lot of bull's crap of human imagination, and Minhyun would never understand the idea of worshipping fictitious authorities when grandeur exist in them, the creatures blessed by the night skies with such holy powers far ahead of human beings. They control the birth and death of mere mortals with the flick of fingers or barbaric carnal desires. Anything goes, because they don't make the laws. 

**They are the law.**

Dongho heaved, breathe becoming mists as it hits the cold air. It's odd, but since it's Dongho, it's fascinating. The way he let out these guttural little sounds, lifting his head from the pillows and tied fists clenching, restricted by ropes that dug into the flesh with imprints that would subside in hours upon release, was beautiful. Dongho was perhaps the loveliest being of his creation, one that walked between the lines of his last humanity with one step into the darkness of their kind. He had the flush of any average mortal, but those long fangs gnawing at the silk pillows signify anything but. It's funny, because he remembered Dongho as one with incredibly attractive sharp teeth when they first met, the carnal tooth having earned him the nickname of a white tiger at one point in history. And white tigers are majestic creatures compared to humans, if not incredibly boring in Minhyun's opinion. And sad, because for something that could kill, they led a life in cages and poached by humans. And there's nothing as devastating as prey turn hunter.

He digress. Fingers curling around his chin, he forced Dongho to meet his eyes. Well, not exactly. He supposed that with the blindfolds on, there's very limited vision he could see, even if he tried. But he's just too pretty like this, all bounded and _needy_. Outside of his chambers, Dongho always held an air of nobility, far more than some who were merely born into it. He walked with confidence and spoke with well-thought eloquence in part due to his upbringing before his turning. A kumdo captain and student councilor in his youth, he became an established professional sportsman that would have gone a step further if not for a poor tragedy. Or not - Minhyun doesn't believe in Greek gods but he believed in the chain of fates. Red strings, little lines inscribing each and every's destinies. And Dongho's destiny was always to come to his side. 

"Did it hurt?" he asked, well-clipped, manicured fingers stroking down the dip of his spine, smiling when the male lifted his bottom higher into the air, rocking back and forth in a silent plea. Minhyun wasn't referring to the ropes or the flogging; he knew Dongho liked it, giving up his leadership and authority as a tiger to become a mewling cat purring at his side. 

"A, a little," Dongho whimpered from the teasing. The electricity that sent Lord Sangwon flying gave him a little jolt too, enough to stun him into balling his hands, but nothing more. If anything, it almost _excites_ him - both in the physical capacity and the very idea that Minhyun had made it known to everyone in the room who he belonged to. To receive such love from one they hail as the emperor...No, even if Minhyun doesn't have the title, Dongho knew he'd still fall in love with him, as much as a heart that cannot beat was capable of loving. He would throw himself in front of swords as the flesh shield, and he would fall by his feet to worship his every inch. 

The blindfold took away his sight temporary, but his sense of hearing seemingly enhanced even more, if he wasn't already possessing enhanced senses the night he turned. He could hear it, the way Minhyun pulled away and walked around the bed, gentle steps treading lightly on the carpet floor. Minhyun walk as if he's gliding, soundless and quiet. It's a trait he came to realize was simply Minhyun and less of that about their kind; and it suits him, the king of night. He's silent as he was deadly, and the quietness adds to the pristine he upheld, from the way his room was essentially a glass chamber alike that of a greenhouse, with curtains drawn when the blues have made way for orange hues. Clean, minimalist, yet a spectacle to behold.

"Wasn't it dangerous?" Dongho once asked when he laid in his arms, body marked with bruises that were slowly fading, like a reverse motion of ink in water. 

"Where's the enjoyment of this droning life if I could not even make love under the night sky?" he had replied, before he soothe him with the stories of constellations, of tales from mankind that romanticize all things natural. 

String undone, the soft rustle of the fabric of Minhyun's cream pants perked his attention. Minhyun now stood in front of him, and he could hear his steps as much as he could smell it at this distance, the distinct flavor of Minhyun's blood. A hint of citrus tanginess underlying the scent of lush lavender, not in an overpowering way, of course. It's so faint yet tempting, and he felt the desire to seep his teeth onto the smooth pale flesh till he had his fill. Fingers threaded into his hair, and in a gripping move, tugged it backward in a jerk. He parted his lips in surprised, and in the next he was gagging on Minhyun's throbbing length. The older vampire moaned, the feeling of his tip nudging against the back of Dongho's opened throat brought a jolt of pleasure. He moved his hips, thrusting at leisure but deeply, fucking Dongho's mouth with his hand on his head, tugging, bobbing. He could feel it, pleasure running down the purple-haired's back from the way he shivered and started to moan, wet mouth and tongue servicing his every inch, throat relaxed. The way his fangs graze the side of his dick was phenomenal, but as vulnerable as the move was, Dongho was trained never to bite unless he was given permission.

The perfect sex toy, really. Though Minhyun have to say, his adoration for the boy had long passed that of simply viewing him as a sex object. Because Dongho was a living, breathing being. No doubt one that _he_ created, but one that is truly and utterly, ethereal.

"Where did he touch you?" He asked, the indifference in his tone accompanied with a bit of faked annoyance, as if he was waiting for an answer when Dongho was a spluttering mess in the midst of deepthroating, muffled groaning signaling his pleasure. Minhyun removed the blindfolds with a lazy hum, tight grip on his hair as he quirk a grin at the way the younger rolled his eyes back, the flush of red and popping veins running down his neck filling the room with a heavy aroma of cedar wood. Minhyun took in the scent, the way the sourness of his sweat mingled with the woodsy, camphoraceous notes. It reminds him of the deep woods with towering trees that he loved to retreat to, book in hand, royal duties behind; and now, Dongho is that sanctuary for him, smooth and velvety with his blood flows down his throat.

"Hmm?" Minhyun moaned as Dongho's tongue wrapped around his girth, an action he rewarded with a firm tug of his hair followed by the massage of his scalp. It spurred the younger on, and soon the royal blood started toying with his hair, curling it with his fingers as Dongho worshiped his length. "Cat caught your tongue?" he asked, voice lower than usual as the depths of his orbs darkened with desire. Minhyun always spoke with a gentle tone, a voice that held a ringing tone as amplified in this glass chamber, and sometimes he sings too - like a siren's charm echoing in the walls, so haunting yet so enthralling. But today, it was teasing with a hint of danger, his eyes narrowing as a cruel smile made its way to his features.

With Dongho sucking him balls deep, how can he expect anything but lustful whimpers?

He pulled away, shivering when his dick left that warm cavern as his sire parted lips in confusion. He could see it, the desire for more in those hooded eyes and heavy panting, tongue peeking out at the corner. His hands are once again balled into fists, and Minhyun would have kissed them till they loosen up, playing with the fingers using his tongue, but he didn't want to spoil him too much. Not yet.

The night is young, after all.

"You owe me an answer." he drawled, bending forward as he whispering in his ears as Dongho rest his face into the soft pillows once more. He licked, delighting in the tremors running down his back, like a little purring kitten. He lightly cradled his cheeks, as one would with their precious children. Minhyun's hands are smaller than one would expect, always properly maintained, no terrible claws nor visible crinkles as nails short and well-kept. It reflected his nature to be neat and tidy, and his extreme distaste for making a mess, for long fingernails are one of the worst when it came to feeding, always stuck under his fingertips and difficult to clean. But enough about his nails. Compared to the chilliness of the night air, his hand felt warm, warm enough for Dongho to crave for more, nuzzling into it weakly as he graze his teeth onto flesh. He could hear it, the royal blood calling out to him. The desire to be one with his master reduced him to guttural whining, his eyes filled with pleasures and adoration as he looked into Minhyun's eyes. 

"S-shoulders. That's all, your highness."

Truth be told, Minhyun would know. He trusts Dongho to be truthful too, especially in a crowd with eyes set on him and his absolutely sinful blood coursing through the veins. He was his little fledgling, and he knew ever inch of him, wherever he's at. But whats' the harm in a little bit of fun? Only he had the right to bully Dongho for hours on the end.

"Good boy." 

Dongho relished in the words, and the emperor could see in the way he quirk his lips into that perfect smile once again. Minhyun always had an obvious dislike for the sun, because no vampire would harbor love for something so abhorrent and made to extinguish the magnificence of their species. But as much as Dongho's smile could rival that of the morning star, it held a glow of milky way beauty, so delicate and tender, and absolutely mesmerizing. He combed his hair back with a hum, eyes softening as he straightened up.

"What do you want?"

"Blood..." he said, swallowing before he pressed a shaky kiss to open palm. "C-cum..." he admitted thereafter with no ounce of shame, "you, master..." Because there shouldn't be when you're with your lover, even if he was the ruler of the lands. Titles were forgotten within these four walls, and Minhyun loved that about him. Because unlike all the other pretentious fuckers out there, drowning in psychedelic high over mediocre blood or those who merely chase after his tail for that lust of power, only Dongho still held that air of simplicity. So much so that he's almost _naive_ , if not for the wanton words slipping out of those red, swollen lips. He's a man of simple and straightforward desires, and all he wants was to be held in his embrace. 

The pure blood vampire doesn't know if he prefer Dongho smiling, or begging for him like this. Thumb glide along his bottom lip, the younger male instinctively sucked on it, taking him in, eyes gazing back at him, ready to please.

A little nymph, but his. 

"You're a greedy little one, aren't you?" he laughed, but he obliged. He was waiting for this moment, if not for some ignorant servant that dispatched Dongho to the ball as one of the new escorts. The audacity of them, treating his Dongho like some toy to be passed around the other filthy aristocrats? The blood that coursed through him is special, a mix of his own richness by birth fused with that of the royal blood from the emperor. Because Dongho was his chosen one, red strings of fate guiding him right into his open arms. And after this, he would like to have a long, extended _talk_ with them. But for now, his sire demanded his attention, and Minhyun, as benevolent as he was, would be happy to gift. 

Strong arms hold him up, hoisting him as he leaned against Minhyun, feeling his cool torso pressed against his back. The ropes around him loosen, and Dongho easily found his arms around the elder's neck despite the awkward positioning. The royal's knees parted his legs, pulling him into an upright, seated position as he entered him slowly, savoring the way his prepared hole fit snugly around his dick. Dongho shuddered, eyelids fluttering as he parted his lips in a silent, satisfied hum, and Minhyun leaned in to give him a tender, extended kiss. It felt so vulnerable, this very moment, so fleeting in the passage of time that they would spend, but Dongho could feel the emperor's full devotion to him through their shared lips.

Minhyun never liked spoken promises. He said they were made to be broken, whispered as spells to lure the unsuspecting humans to their death or passing into the afterlife, nothing more. But here, as he nibbled onto his lips, that familiar scent of lavender invading his senses, Dongho could feel Minhyun imprinting his name onto his tongue. That he was his, as much as he belonged to him.

In this position, he could feel every inch of him, filling him up. It felt warm, especially the place where they connected when he begun to thrust. Dongho grit his teeth, carnal desire rising once more as Minhyun ran his hands all over him, like a sculpture finessing every inch of him, drawing lines and marked onto his skin, tracing muscles of his chest and abs. Each time he bounced on Minhyun's lap, the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh as with the enveloped sensation sent tingling pleasure to both men. Dongho's full bottom was a sight to behold, but even more so to feel on his hands and his length. The sensation rose as they moved in sync, and Dongho wanted more, needed more. He wanted to douse himself in Minhyun's blood, the same way he wanted his lover to get drunk on his blood. The scent of pristine floral with a hint of fruit set his mind ablaze, and in between this physical and mental highs, he started to cry. There's just so much he could take before he goes insane, and he couldn't be teased any longer with the way Minhyun invade his senses.

"B-blood, master," he started to beg as fingers wiped away at the falling tears. He could feel Minhyun's fangs digging into his back muscles, but never hard enough to puncture past the skin, just enough to tease relentlessly. "Please," he mumbled, mind hazy, hands around his neck falling as he gripped at the bed sheets, "M-minhyun...!"

With a harder thrust, the elder growled, throwing away his crown and gentleman's mask for the night of pure ecstasy. He shoved, pressing his entire weight on Dongho as the male clenched his fists around the bedsheets. The younger male was starting to trash about, tight ass grinding back against him in a primitive mating call as he lifted his head, baring fangs. Minhyun grunted, pulling away so he could raise his hand, slapping down on the plump bottom. The sound slap on smooth skin brought that little jiggle with each time his hand landed on the bouncy flesh, like kneading a firm bout of dough, but better. It's soft yet the right amount of firmness, and it turned red fairly quickly as he landed one hand after another as he continued plunging into him.

"Fuck," Minhyun cussed, a sight that none had witness save for Dongho, his special Dongho.

Hands holding the tiny waist, a snug fit with the perfect curves. he leaned in. He's feeling it, the way his almost close. One arm brought to his lips so he could tear at his pale skin, Minhyun cut a deep gash with his fangs along the wrist before he offering it to the hungry sire, watching as he lapped up the trail of blood. His fangs throb, and just as he sunk his teeth right into Dongho's shoulder blade, he could feel his lover biting into his forearm, drawing a loud growl from him. Behind, Minhyun pressed taut against him, feeding on the luscious woody scent that permeated the room, its pure richness spilling over like a barrel of the best matured wine tipping over. It's like a dose of highly concentrated ecstasy pills, pumping adrenaline into their yearning bodies.

Between Minhyun's feral thrusts and passionate exchange of blood, between Minhyun's cusses and hungry kisses, between that cold hand that reached down and stroke his neglected, leaking cock, Dongho cried as he climaxed. His body arched forward, shuddering while his mind drew a blank, and he could only yell in pleasure, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. His eyes saw red and he felt the wetness of Minhyun's cum, climaxing inside of him, filling him up with few strong, last thrusts, his hole involuntarily clenching on to his seed even as he pulled out.

As the stars in his eyes wavered from the stars hung above him, Minhyun coaxing him with tiny pecks down the side his chin, Dongho blinked in a haze, consciousness fading.

And right before he closed his eyes, body flushed against Minhyun's embrace, he could hear that song out of his lips once again.

A song that whispered of his name and their love, dedicated to him by the emperor of vampires, and the master of his mind, soul and body.

**Author's Note:**

> i received this prompt for the 1000-word challenge, but working on the original idea, i simply couldn't put it into 1000-words. so instead, i've decided to complete what i have in mind as an additional oneshot, all the while preparing a shorter version of the prompt that exist in the same universe. they're separate pieces and can be kept as such. will try to update the other one soon. i hope you enjoy this! again, your kudos and comments are much appreciated c: — yours sincerely, Sonagi♡


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